Nicolò’s Epilogue
Trilby’s gallery feels way bigger without so many people inside it. Thankfully, all the guests have left except for the four sisters, me, Cristiano, Benito and Andreas. Even Augie took off after the photographs.
The pictures Lina had taken of Tess in various dance poses were captivating. While the others admired her grace, her skill and how terribly bendy Tess is, I admired the camera work.
I remember with shame that time in the convention center when I told Lina to leave because it wasn’t a real job and she was only there because I allowed it—that she hadn’t earned her place as a photographer.
When in reality, she has an incredibly gifted eye.
Her work deserves all this wall space and more.
I finish another lap of the exhibit and return to Benito leaning against the bar, sleeves rolled up, watching the restroom door where Tess and the girls disappeared about ten minutes ago.
Benito groans and swirls the whisky around his glass. “What the hell are they doing in there? Digging a tunnel?”
Cristiano grins. “Ten bucks says they’re staging an intervention for Tess. The poor girl’s marrying you, after all.”
Benito flips him the bird. “You wish you had my charm.”
Andreas chuckles at my side. “You call that charm? I call it Stockholm syndrome.”
“Ha!” Benito points a drunken finger at his brother. “You can talk. You actually did lock your woman away until she fell for you.”
Andreas shrugs. “It all worked out in the end.”
I throw the rest of the whisky down my throat, keen to get Bambalina back to my apartment so we can crack on with the sequel to her last journal entry. “They’ll just be gossiping.”
Cristiano smirks into his drink. “Or comparing notes.”
“What?” All three of us look up at once, mild alarm flashing across our faces.
Cristiano laughs low. “You think women don’t compare notes?”
Benito swallows loudly. “You think they do?”
“I don’t think; I know. I’ve heard them. They talk about everything.”
I almost spit out my drink. “Everything?”
“Yeah, everything. Size, shape, skill, how we kiss, how we feel them up, how we piss them off. You name it. There’s a whole intelligence network going on behind those closed doors.”
“Fuck,” I say, quietly. “And I thought the Russians were our biggest threat.”
The door finally opens and out spills four, inconveniently beautiful, mostly tipsy, flushed sisters.
Expensive floral perfume punctures the air as they waft straight past us to the door.
“Guess we’re leaving then,” I say, about to follow.
Cristiano squints. “See that? They didn’t even look at us. That’s guilt. They’re hiding something.”
Andreas straightens and heads for the restroom door. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
Benito arches a brow. “I don’t think you’ll find any cake,” he grunts.
Andreas disappears into the girl’s restroom before any of us can stop him.
I don’t know why he’s bothering. He’ll likely only find face wipes, lipstick smears and blotchy handtowels.
Still, there’s a part of me that sits a little uneasily at the fact they were in there for so long, and have just walked straight out without even saying goodbye.
Cristiano and Benito are arguing over district issues when Andreas reappears, holding something in his hand. His skin is a little paler than it was when he opened the door to the restroom.
“Well,” he said slowly, dropping the small piece of plastic onto the bar. “Mystery solved.”
We all stare down at the two pink lines.
Cristiano blinks. “Is that…?”
“Yep.”
Benito’s smile vanishes. “You’re joking.”
Andreas shakes his head. “One of us is about to become a father.”
In the silence that follows I swear I can hear everyone’s heart beating hard and fast.
I look across my brothers, then back at the test, and clear my throat. “I guess the odds just got interesting.”
Cristiano chuckles nervously. “And none of us bet on that.”
A long pause stretches thin.
“Another round?” Andreas holds up a bottle of whisky and is met with a resounding “Yes.”
The four of us are quiet as we drink the spirit a little too enthusiastically. Regardless of who the father is, our lives are going to change. Babies change things. I’ve seen it happen to the most dedicated of capos.
I look around at my brothers, wondering who the father is going to be.
Andreas swirls the whiskey around his glass, focusing on it like there’s a reading in there somewhere. Despite the fact I can barely see his skin beneath all that ink, I can see him as a father.
I know him the least of all these men, but the way he won Serafina around in record time, making her the most loyal, devoted wife I’ve ever seen, has to say something.
There’s a nurturing streak in Andreas, the likes of which my own father lacked and I stopped looking for many years ago. He’d make a bloody brilliant father.
My gaze drifts to Benito, Andreas’ brother, the next in age to me.
He and Tess just got engaged. I think he secretly harbors a desire to knock her up so she can’t venture too far from his wandering hands, but deep down, I know how proud he is of her dancing.
I saw the way he looked at all the prints hanging around the gallery.
He wouldn’t want to jeopardise her career by getting her pregnant so soon.
Cristiano clears his throat for the third time since the plastic grenade landed on the bar. That’s a tell, right there. He hasn’t long been the don of this outfit—he’s only just getting started. What would a baby do to his and Trilby’s plans?
If it were me, I’d be even more single-minded about our mission. Even more ruthless about taking what’s mine and building a legacy for my kid. I think Cristiano would be too, but I doubt he’s given much thought to it, so the idea is messing with his head.
I know what they’re all thinking. We each had a shit father—what kind of father will that make us?
I can only speak for myself. My dad taught me how not to raise a kid. Sure, he was caring toward my sister and he never put us at risk of harm. But he wasn’t there when it mattered. He treated my mom badly and put his own greed and selfish desires before his family.
I want to be an example to my kids. A good one.
“Where were they headed?” Andreas asks, suddenly. “Aren’t they supposed to be splitting now?”
Benito walks toward the door then turns back. “They’re out here, waiting by the cars.”
“Well, then,” Cristiano says, throwing the rest of his whisky back. “Let’s go.”
The four of us approach the exit together.
“Goodnight boys.” Benito winks conspiratorially and opens the door.
I head to the car Lina is standing by and open the door for her to get in.
When I slide in next to her, I turn my head and look deep into her eyes.
They’re warm, soft and filled with so much love it makes my chest ache.
Right now, she could tell me anything and I would make it my mission to give her the goddamn world.
“Lina…” I start.
Her lashes flicker softly in the dim yellow light of passing street lamps. “Yes, Nicolò?”
I rest a reassuring hand over hers. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
I look through the windshield and swallow. “Do you have any news?”
Her silence makes me turn.
“Why do you ask?”
I breathe out a taut sigh. She isn’t going to make this easy for me. I take hold of her hands. “You know I’m going to stand by you, whatever happens, right? I’m not one of those fair-weather boyfriends who’s just looking for a bit of fun and will flee the second things get heavy.”
“I know that,” she says slowly, then she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, do you know?”
“I know… something.”
“What kind of something?”
I can barely make out her words since they’re spoken through tight fingers.
“I know someone is pregnant, Lina.”
She slowly lowers her hand. Her smile starts small, then stretches wide across her face until she’s beaming with happiness.
“She is. She really is.”
I dip my gaze. “Who? Who is pregnant?”
She sits up straight, frowning. “I can’t tell you yet. The father doesn’t even know.”
I grind my teeth impatiently.
“But what I can tell you is this…”
My ears burn in anticipation.
“Aunt Lina and Uncle Nicolò has quite the ring to it.”
The end.